


From Hawk to Crow

by FateCharms



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Mother!Hawke, Slave!Hawke, alternate universe - soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateCharms/pseuds/FateCharms
Summary: Never had she ever thought this could happen, but now it has, and she is broken and willing. A bird in an open cage.He never wanted this, none of this should've happened. Maker please make this some kind of horrible dream.-----Basically my thoughts on what could happen if Danarius wasn't killed during the Alone quest from Act III and if Fenris and Hawke had some falling out after.. well, y'know.





	1. The Beginning

She woke to arms gripping her tightly, her legs numb underneath her. She felt cut off from her magic, it was there, but wasn’t. Her head lolled side to side with their steps. She tried to place her surroundings, familiarity ringing loudly in her head. These marble tiles, granite walls with luxurious paintings hanging on the walls. Then the steps came. Her knees thudded against the hard surface of the stairs, each one sending a jolt of pain through her. She cried out with each step, her body convulsing at the sharp, acute pain, white hot through her. When she finally reached the floor, she was limp, panting heavily as she looked around, seeing the cells all around. A far door down the hall indicating something worse beyond.

She looked down at herself this time, her lips pulling back in fear as she wished to so desperately to touch her stomach, which was currently housing life. She was thrown into a cell, and she curled around her stomach, praying her baby was safe and alright. She moved to a corner, hand resting on her belly and the other was keeping her supported while she adjusted to lean on the wall.

She waited, trying to reorder herself. The stone walls held a familiarity that left her clawing for it. Something was blocking her memory. She growled quietly, closing her eyes and drifting back into her subconsciousness, trying to call forth her memories. She needed to know where she was, and soon.

Faces bubbled to the forefront of her mind, the last making her sigh pleasantly. Fenris was looking at her, his gaze soft and a small smile tugging at his lips. Her hands one his jaw, tickling the lyrium coursing through the brands in his skin and making them glow, just like his verdant eyes. She swallowed anymore sounds she was tempted to make and instead blinked her eyes open, looking out at the devastation of the dark dungeon before her with a thread of recognition.

She chased it, pulling the memory out of the depths of her mind, and just as she placed her location, dread filled her. Her lips parted, her voice failing to scream out in fear, and her heart beat erratic in her chest, her breaths short and quick. Her gaze darted about the room beyond her cell bars.

This is Danarius’s dungeons.

How she knew? Simple. Her lover, her mate, was here once upon a time, he was much younger, and his hair a deep red, and his skin unbranded. He didn’t know sh knew, for she had seen it in dreams back when she was in Ferelden, before the fifth blight. He was in a cell, shivering from the cold, they were preparing everything for his branding. When the guard had come for him, it was the same night he had won the tournament, where he had booned off freedom to his sister and mother. She remembered, and it burned in her mind’s eye. Why was she down here? Was she to have the same fate.

Days she waited for her doom, for her to risk losing her beautiful baby who has no chance of living if she remains her. Over these days of silence and quiet elven slaves bringing well-rounded meals, Faere Hawke recalled how she had entered this situation in the first place.

\---

They had caught her off guard. It was dark, and their camp was several paces from the road, but it was heavily covered in the brush. There was no way they should have know they were camped there. She wanted to scream, her body thrashing in the strong grip as she saw the shadowy figure of Danarius appear before her. She wanted to call out to the sleeping companion, her friend. “Var-” She was cut off, a hand clamped over her mouth, and a firm hand on her waist. She dared not move for fear of hurting her baby. She swallowed the lump in her throat, praying that this was all just a horrible dream and she’d wake up to Varric and the contingency of wardens they were going to see, her brother among them.

But no, this was no dream. She had woken from a dream, her lover holding her, pressing a kiss into her temple, hands rubbing circles into her hip bones and waist meeting waist. Cookie dough behind her as she had been making it not minutes before he had come into the kitchen to monopolize her attention with affection. That was a beautiful, peaceful dream she wished she could go back to, to that exact moment. To when he still remained at her side. But he had set out too, as much as it pained her how they had left, a fight.

She didn’t dwell on it for the way Danarius watched her he was looking for things to hurt her with. She would give none.

“You will pay for what happened in Kirkwall all those months ago.” She swallowed thickly, glaring up at him from under her bangs. She almost wished she had her war paint on, but she took it off to sleep. Her kit is in her tent, untouched since yesterday morning. She thrashed in her captors hold again as the magister reached out and touched her forehead, running his fingers across her skin. “Sleep.”

She felt her blood slow, then realized there was a thick, warm substance on her forehead, he was augmenting his power by smearing his blood over her forehead? She tried resisting the blood magic he was now using over her, but to no avail as her body was lulled into the unconsciousness he was forcing upon her.

\---

She reached up and brushed away the dried blood from her forehead, frowning deeply as she glanced up at the stairway leading up to the mansion’s clean and tidy halls. She tensed, hearing that door open for the second time that day, she was counting and this was odd, given the elven slave who came to feed her came once, when three meals, all of which upon heated plates with covers. And she came in the morning with breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

She watched the steps with a the intensity to kill. Her mouth dried when the fine robes came into view. Her gaze shot up to the face of her true captor and all the heat and hope in her fled through the stone.

She spoke before he could brainwash her with his words first. “What do you want with me.”

“You must pay for preventing me from getting my investment. So I’ll invest in you, and that little one you’ve got growing in you. Don’t worry, they’ll be treated nicely, so long as they obey me like all the rest, and so long as you obey me, like all the rest. You’re strong, perhaps you will survive the branding too.”

Hawke had never felt so useless, fear and longing aching through her, and with no hope, she was afraid that she was never going to see her lover ever again. That scared her the most. She knew it’s bad for the baby, but she found it impossible to not be scared. This man is going to risk killing her and her child.

“Why? Why are you doing this? He left me! He’s out there somewhere, hunting you and your hunters! Why are you after me instead?”

“Because he’s too far gone, ruined by the prospect of love.”

“He doesn’t love me…” She argued.

“Then what is that on your wrist?”

“A false hope..” She whimpered, shaking.

He hummed, seemingly displeased, “in any case, he’ll come for you, and when that happens he’ll be caught, fixed, and then put back into service as he should have been. Just as you are going to be. So is your child.”

Hawke whimpered again, she’s powerless, unable to fight, and utterly alone. She didn’t even know if Varric is aware of where she had been taken, or who had taken her. He is probably worried about her the most.

\---

Varric sighed for the umpteenth time. He knew that the simple, one sentence, terribly written, and anonymous letter he had received was the elven fugitive who was damn well aware of everything now. That is why he had left them all in the first place, to protect the woman he loves. He hadn’t said what he had intended that night in the circle tower, he hadn’t confessed to his mate that he knew everything, he knew that his love was true, both soul and heart, and that he’d never leave. Varric knew it killed the elf inside every day. Especially now that Hawke had been missing for two months with nothing to link anything together with. “Elf… I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her for you, and now the chantry is after me.”

He sighed heavily again, running his hand over his face for the umpteenth time, feeling the scratch of a beard coming on. He was known for his clean-shavenness, but he was not going to grow a beard just to through the chantry off his tail. Those were too annoying for just throwing off the seekers of truth.

He was seated at a table in a bar, his manuscript for his newest work on the table before him. This letter he had received a week ago, at this very bar where he remained. He knew that he couldn’t escape Fenris, not unless Cassandra Pentaghast got to him first. He looked up at the sound of the tavern door opening. He swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned back, dropping the letter on the table after folding it closed. 

In the entry way was a man, his cowl pulled over his forehead to hide his hair, and his coat heavy and black. It was cold out, so it was unsurprising, even for him. He caught sight of the dwarven storyteller and marched towards him, removing his cowl as he sat down in front of the dwarf. “Tell me everything, Varric.”

“Not going to order a drink first? Get out of the coat?”

“Tell. Me. Everything. What happened to her.” 

“I’m sorry, Elf, please know that I’m really sorry.”

“Just tell me what happened to her, I need to know.”

Varric let out a breath, as though to prepare himself for the long and drawn out conversation that is to come. “She vanished overnight, leaving everything but her night clothes behind.”

\---

She watched the assistants bustle about her, her arms chained high about her head and her back arched. She found her gaze was lingering on a slave holding a baby, bundled up and cooing, reaching out for attention. The slave didn’t give it at all. She longed to be the one holding the child, though her mind didn’t supply the answer for her.

“Crow… my beautiful creation… how do you feel?”

She twitched, finally moving to look over at the man who was rounding her. Her body forced a cry out of her, searing white pain shooting up from her feet to her back in thick lines, then smaller trickles over her hands and arms, her neck and caressing her forehead. “I-It hurts!” She gasped out.

“Shh…. it’s alright, Crow… I will alleviate all that pain so long as you do a few simple things, always.”

She nodded, despite the pain, “Anything…”

“You will address me as ‘master’, you will obey my every command, and you will only ever make eye contact with me when I want you to, when I bring you're chin up to look at.”

She dropped her gaze instantly, hoping to gain some favor and freedom from the searing pain, “Yes master…” She twitched again, rendered to begs, “Master please! It… It hurts!”

He shushed her again, this time with a hand on her cheek, soothing healing magic flowing into her body to ease the pain and mend the remaining damage. “All will be well. When we get you down from there, you can go to your room to rest, with your daughter.” He gestured to the slave holding the baby. And suddenly the need clicked in her mind. Her daughter, her little girl.

“I’ll have to teach you Tevene, but do not fear, you will be safe and well fed, my pet.” 

She was dropped to the ground when the chains had been released, and she trembled as she struggled to her feet. Her master watched her, doing nothing to aid. She knew it was a test, so she forced herself to her feet, willing herself up to walk a few steps and glancing up at the child in another woman’s arms. A fierce need filled her, but she was not told to go and get her daughter. So she remained. She dropped her gaze to the floor, glaring fiercely. She prayed her master was please, despite how her body shook even as she was still.

“Help her to her room, she is strong, but I doubt she will make it up the steps without trouble. Bring the child with her. I have guests to attend to.” With that her master left. She sighed, closing her eyes and waiting for the hands one her to guide her where she was to go. Her daughter was behind her, beginning to cry out at the lack of attention, the slave doing her best to quiet the infant now. Crow glanced back over her shoulder, her hair falling in her face. The silvery strands disregarded completely even as they fell in her vision.

Following the men to her room, she found that she was not headed to the slaves quarters, which she was sure should be there. And instead was lead through to the cleanest part of the mansion she noted. Which meant, the master’s quarter’s is located in these set passageways, along with hers, so it seemed. She took her time to memorize which door lead to her room as to not forget, and entered without much more encouragement than one of her guides opening the door and beckoning her inside.

She glanced about, noting the room’s small, but tidy set up. The bed of in the corner was a bit large for a slave’s, and given the sheets a top it, accompanied with furs, she was more than just a simple slave. At the foot of the bed, a window was placed above it, and a footlocker set close to the bed frame. Across from the footlocker and the bed in the far corner, and across from her, was a closet. Directly to her left was the armor stand, a curious place, she’d move it by the closet after asking for permission from her master later, along with asking about a weapon rack for emergencies. Beyond the oddly placed armor stand was a dresser, dark brown in color with a red finish. On the next wall, several feet away from the dresser, was a bookcase, currently empty, and would most likely be filled with things she must carry on her to aid her master and herself in protecting him--she made her guesses from the armor stand. In between that and the bed was a night stand, a simple candle upon it, unlit. Strategically placed torched, all of which were unlit, were on each wall. There were only four in total, one for each, but were well placed. She nodded, stepping further into the room, glancing down at the large rug that protected her feet from the cold stone.

She looked back, expecting someone to give her next commands, but one of the men was looking her up and down, she herself looked down and became aware of her nakedness. She waited, unflinching from this state of nude. The male swallowed thickly, “T-The magister said clothes are in the dresser, night clothes I mean, along with some training garbs to go under your armor when you receive it. Formal attire is in the closet, I assume.”

The elven slave holding the child entered the room and gently set the whining child down on the bed and hurried from the room, and disappearing down the hall. Crow nodded, then turned, facing the dresser and walking towards it, even as the guard stared at her. She glanced over at his feet, unwilling to make eye-contact. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“N-No!” He retreated as well, closing the door and his footsteps quieting as as walked down the hall in a hurry. She hummed, confused by the interaction. She shook it off and instead began to dress in the loose clothing, not the slim and neatly folded clothes to the left, but the slightly rumpled and slightly larger clothes to the right. She slipped the night dress on, then moved towards the bed, carefully getting onto the bed without tearing her new night clothes, and brought the baby into her arms. She hummed, a soft smile gracing her features.

“We’re home.”

The baby cooed in response, gurgling and seeming to rest now with the attention and presence of her mother. Crow smiled, then curled up one the bed as well, letting sleep take her as her body ached once again and the slight pain that remained from her branding just some minutes ago returning.


	2. The Life They Live

Fenris had never been so furious nor had he been so worried, and never had he been both to such an extent at the same time for so long. He was currently in an tavern, hidden away in his room, stripped of his heavy coat and cowl he wore almost constantly now. In his hand a single crystal, empty from power but the shivering residue that made the lyrium in his hand to glow in response. The crystal is small, no bigger than half of his thumb. It was refined, simple and reflecting the light from the rising sun in the window. He brought the small object to his lips, pressing a kiss into the crystal.

“I will get this to you hawke, one way, or another.” He then put the gem onto it’s leather cord again and put it on, letting it hang loosely against his sternum. He then got the rest of the way dressed, his shirt shrugged on, along with his coat and his cowl. He then left before anyone woke that morning, leaving in a hurry, a rush really. He left barely even a sign he had been there, a few silver on the desk being the only indication of his presence.

He was gone, into the woods following the well walked path. He sighed heavily, the morning chill tickling his nose and his breath puffing out in front of him. Even at the base of the frostbacks, Fenris felt the chill of its icy peaks. Although, winter was upon them already, it was expected truly, that didn't stop him from such thoughts. It was insane how could it could be.

The last letter he had received from Varric was sent a little over two weeks ago, but Fenris was traveling to where the dwarf had been taken, given the fact he had no choice. They didn't know he was coming, but maker forbid he stop his trek to Haven.

Yes, Fenris was going to Haven, where he loathed to go, where mages and templars alike gathered, where a seeker of truth would gladly interrogate him for any and all information of his currently missing lover. Information he was getting from Varric. 

Night fell relatively quickly for the elf, surprising that he had lost track of the day so easily, and set up a space to sleep in a tree, tying his legs down with an easy slip knot so he could escape if necessary, then slept.

He was plagued with images of Hawke this night. He walking through halls all to familiar to him and all to unwelcoming to the elf. Marble tiles and granite walls, a painting of a magister in his prime. Danarius’ mansion.

Her hair was white as well, a thick, heavy collar around her throat with a single ring at her collarbones indicating the worst. Small, almost invisible lines traced over her skin in the most curious of ways. Then it clicked as she reached through a wall. Lyrium branded.

And unaware.

Horror rose like bile in his throat. He knew that this had to be a dream, it just had to be, but it all felt so real. So alike to his life in that monstrous house and realistic down to the smallest of cracks on the tile next to the corner. But Hawke. Her blue eyes skimmed over her hand as she pulled it free from the wall. She straightened, hearing something that alarmed her. She hurried down the hall, entering a room all to familiar to him. The bodyguard’s room for Danarius, his favorite plaything. She swept across the floor easily, moving to the bed and sitting down beside a small child, it’s whining quieting as it registered it’s mother’s presence. Fenris’s heart sunk in his chest. This couldn’t be Hawke, could it? Hawke is woman who would fight, free herself and fight for freedom if she was pregnant, she’d also tell the father, surely.

That hurt the most. It wasn’t his, there’s no way that child could be his, Hawke would have told him otherwise, right? She wouldn’t betray him like that, would she? THoughts like this plagued him until he woke the following morning, his joints stiff and his stomach churning uncomfortably at his mindset. He frowned, it was colder today than it was yesterday, much colder. Where it was just a chill, it was now an evident, heavy cold hanging on his face and his toes. He disregarded it for now, he hadn’t had the time to slow down and get some boots, he would get some from a traveling merchant if he can, probably can’t.

He undid the knot in the rope and slipped out of the tree, feeling the morning frost on his feet, soaking through the cloth of his leggings. He shrugged it off, walking out to the path, glancing both ways before heading up towards the mountains again.

\---

She was to soon be taken to the bath, where she was to be cleaned and dressed for her master. She took this time to appease the baby she currently cradled in her arms. She had a few more minutes, or so she thought. A rapping on her door drew her attention, as the door opened she stood, seeing the familiar slave who seemed to be a nursemaid for the slave children. A guard stood in the hall behind the elven slave, who entered and took the baby from Crow’s arms carefully. The infant whined softly, but eased back into sleep. Crow hesitated a moment before leaning down and ghosting a kiss on the baby’s forehead gently and then hurried out the door and to the hall, letting the guard link the chain onto her collar. The very same collar she had been wearing for the past few days. Ever since she had started training, the collar she know wore was bestowed upon her by her master, he looked pleased by her compliance. He had run a hand through her hair as praise, letting her nuzzle against his palm at the warmth of his touch. Many of the guards find it pleasing to see her at the end of a chain however, though she ignored it, not to the point of ignorance and shame, however.

As she was led to the bath, she watched the chain be removed from her collar and she was shoved into the room, making her stumble from the unprecedented force. She said nothing and instead walked further into the room calmly and let the other slaves tend to stripping her down, checking over her body for her bruises from training to make note of for after her bath. Guiding her to the large pool, she could see the steaming water. She stepped in with the guidance of the others, and settled at the edge so they could run their hands over her with cloth soaked in soaps. They massaged her body, easy out the tension from her training that morning and easing her into relaxation. She sighed as a joint in her back that was tense and refused to ease popped loudly, finally relaxing despite being sore. She eased into their hands like puddy, happily letting them work over her. They cleaned her hair then doused her in more hot water a few times, sometimes working their hands through her short silvery strands. They she was pulled out of the bath, and dried down to the toe, preened and even her collar was removed for a brief time to dry her neck and a powdery substance to be patted against her bruises to hide them. She hummed, closing her eyes and letting them work. Soo she was being dressed, the draft alerting her to her bare midriff and arms, her legs clean shaven and the silk petal shirt low one her hips. The tips of the silk ghosting over her feet. She blinked after the mask was settled one her face, keeping her lower face revealed, but her upper face hidden behind intricate painting. She was handed a glass, and told to sip, which she did and gave the glass back. It was wine, her mind informed her, the sweet taste lingered for a little longer than she’d have liked, but she didn’t argue.

Eventually they departed and a different guard than before arrived to retrieve her. She glanced down at her attire, finding she was in some kind of bra like shirt, but it had straps leading up and over her shoulders to keep it supported on her slim frame. Entering the gathering, Crow instantly smelt the liquor in the air, and the laughter and whispers indicated to her these were all high ranking people, far above her in the eyes of society. She kept her head bowed as she trusted the guard to lead her where she was to belong. Her master’s voice made her twitch, glancing up to see his feet. She was thrusted towards him, and she stopped before him, dropping into a deep bow, her knees on the floor and her hands in front of her. He grabbed her chin gingerly, making her look up. She kept her gaze down, at his palm instead of the floor.

“Look at me, Crow.” He whispered. She obeyed, seeing his icy blue gaze on her. She did her best to appease him as his gaze wandered, shifting slightly to allow him to see what he wanted without being obvious to the other guests. He smiled appreciatively. “Good girl. Come on, lay down.” He removed his hand and gestured to his lap as he leaned back.

She took his offer as a command, for it was in her mind, easing onto the nice couch she rested her head in his lap, one hand on his thigh, her other hanging off the edge of the couch. She must have done as he wanted for he combed through her hair gently, chatting idly with his guests. They were talking in a slightly less foreign tongue, she caught a few words and managed to understand that they were talking about her, the name ‘Crow’ being said here and there, followed by ‘her’ and ‘she’. 

Throughout the evening, she was directed to pour her master’s drink, which he held before her chest when she poured the beverage, he then always had her sip the glass once before he took it back, and waiting for some time before taking his first drink of the new glass of wine. She understood she was his poison warning, alerting him not to drink if she died or fell unconscious. She would always return to her original place in his lap, watching the feet of the people around, listening into conversations even though she could not understand most of them. She cared not for any of that, she just needed to get into the habit for when she could understand.

And after the party, her master brought her to his chambers for relief.


	3. Tell Me Everything

The next year washed over him in a wave. Too many things had happened in this year, too many things went wrong, others, right. Especially with the news that Varric continuously sent his way. They were occasional, but informative.

And by Andraste he needed some good news right about now.

His hands trembled, staring down at Varric’s practiced print, the letters daring him to shed a tear and fall apart at the news it bore into him. He dropped it onto the desk before him. He was in a tavern, upstairs in his rented room. He was away from the tavern’s noise with all the locals cheering, but that didn’t stop his mind from being overwhelmed with voices.

 

Voices telling him everything he feared.

_You failed. You should have been there. She would here if you were protecting her. None of this would have happened if you stayed together. She hates you. She’s forgotten about you. She wanted to forget you. You made her want to forget._

_You started the fight, It’s your fault._

He turned away from the desk, walking towards the window to stare out at the horizon, his hands refusing to still even as he took steadying breaths to ease his mind. Nothing calmed him, and he eventually turned back to look at the letter one he desk. It was a single page, both front and back. But the back had a single paragraph. It was small, and it was the first line of that paragraph that had given him hope. It was the second that crushed it utterly.

**Hawke has been seen by some of my contacts. My contacts in Teventer say she’s different, and with You Know Who.**

Fenris prayed this was just all a bad dream, it wasn’t real, it was fake, this isn’t happening. Everything he had been working for, searching for, praying for, had been torn to shreds by one word. The one word was a name. A name of a place. The name of the one place he didn’t want to go, nor did he want Hawke to be.

None of his friends should be in Teventer. None.

Well, Anders would fit right in, especially if he just started practising blood magic. As unlikely as that was, the possibility still stood. He’d do mighty fine under the right magister, and perhaps would shift the tide for the imperium. But anyone else. Maker and the creators--if they are real--don’t make this be true. Make this a mistake. Please, please just-

“-Just let me get her back… I need her…” He was broken, and the words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. He stepped slowly backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he felt back into it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. When he had gone to Haven, Varric was not to be disturbed. During that time, Fenris had traveled throughout Ferelden in search of Hawke, but to no avail. He met up with a few Grey wardens in his travels, and inquired of Carver, learning that he was back at the headquarters last that group had heard.

Fenris’ travels let him to strange places, just as Hawke had promised she’d take him. He didn’t think that he’d been looking for her when she made that promise. He didn’t know where Hawke was then, and now that he knew, he almost wishes he didn’t. The weight of it held him hostage, like he was wearing a collar for a qunari saarebas. The thought almost sickened him.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it go. It shook as it left his lips, but he was getting himself back together the only way he knew how.

He giggles filled his ears, her hands on his chest as they stood in the kitchen. Orana was out and Bodahn was taking Sandel out for a while out on the streets of hightown. She was looking up at him through dark lashes and bangs, her blue eyes glinting with mischief and affection.

“Fenris!” She whined, her laugh evident as she pushed against him slightly, not truly wanting him away. “I can’t finish making the dough if you are keeping me hostage like this!”

He hummed, “How long do you need?”

“I don’t know, but if you let me it shouldn’t take forever!” He hummed, stepping away enough for her to turn around and beginning to work again. He then settled right against her, chest to back as he watched her work with the ingredients. She just giggled back at him as she glanced to look at him, their gazes meeting for a brief moment before she rolled her eyes and continued to make the cookie dough. “Did you finish reading the book I left for you in the study?” She inquired knowingly.

He grumbled in response, “Maybe.”

“Fenris.” She chided softly.

“No.” The confession came with a sigh, him rocking his head back to stare up at the ceiling to avoid her light glare at stopping his reading and interrupting her doing one of her favorite past-times.

“Fenris.” Her tone was lower, her playfulness evidently absent. He wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his face against her shoulder blade, nose just over her shoulder. He looked up at her, knowing he could win her over this way. It had worked once, it’ll work again. When she stopped and looked down at him awkwardly, they started one another down, Fenris pleadingly, Hawke unamused. She sighed, turning to return to the cookie down. Fenris grinned faintly, he had won. He then shifted, placing a ghostly kiss to the nape of her neck. Causing her to hold her actions with the cookie dough to reach up and curl her fingers into his hair, turning her face to look at him.

A small trick he learned along the way to grab her attention, and in the good way. “I love you, but you are such a twerp…”

He hummed in response, a smirk evident as he leaned closer to her cheek. She huffed, tugging at his hair and his smirk grew ever more. “Yes, Hawke?”

She growled now, “Fenris…”

He chuckled, loosening his grip to let her turn to face him fully. Now it was his turn to play keepaway. And she knew it too. She trailed both hands up into his hair, playing with the strands. He had to resist the urge to roll his head back into the touch. A very bad habit of his head got from his life as a slave, he came to accept he was never going to get it to go away. And Hawke loved to torture him with it like this. She reached further up, before pulling her hands back and running them through his bangs. He knew he was a lost cause then. His head rolled with the motion and she stepped closer, making him step back in turn. This continued until his was back up against the wall, so she changed her tactic to one hand in his hair. He wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but her other hand, the one still in his hair, brushed against his ear, drowning his want for her hand in his hair again. He leaned his head to follow the remaining hand, pressing a kiss into her palm. He realized too late that she had successfully nuzzled into his neck. The moment he felt her breath, he shivered, his hands tightening on her hips in anticipation.

He was furious when she pulled away with him still a flustered--and now annoyed-- mess. As she swayed her hips with each of her steps back to the cookie dough, Fenris watched her. Eventually he had gotten riled up enough from her purposefully moving in suggestive ways he pushed away from the wall and grabbed her by the hips, his face nuzzling her jaw and ghosting butterfly kisses there. She shivered now, her head rolling away at his newfound attention, attention she knew was coming. “Unfair…”

“Mmn, says the tease..” He muttered, pulling away from her jaw and trailing kisses down to her shoulder, pleased when she whined at him softly.

“So..? You’re being more of the tease right now… You know I need to finish and now you choose to get me riled up?”

He smirked down at her, “Well, I can always let you finish now…” He let her go and turned, taking a maximum of two steps before she jumped on his back, legs around his waist, and her hands making him look up at her for the fervent kiss she demanded of him. He hummed as they pull away, “How long until you finish with those cookies?”

“Five minutes if you wait for me upstairs.” She smiled down at him, “They’ll go in the oven afterwards. And then you can have my full attention, promise.” She released him, carefully setting one foot one the ground before stepping away from him to return to the cookie dough. His victorious smirk didn’t leave his face after as he turned right to head for the stairs.

As the memory faded, Fenris found himself at a state of peace. The memory was important to him. It showed them in both of their happiest ways. Together and playful, and affectionate, passionate, and demanding of each other for contact. That memory was of a time before it all went to shit.

\---

She walked behind him in methodical steps, her daughter being tended to. She was slowly getting small, thin, intricate markings all over her, and it had started nearly three days ago. The little girl was active, for an infant, and was already crawling about the room when she felt the need to wander. For Crow, this past year had been routine, and she was now fluent in the native language and had negated several assassination attempts, simply by subtle indicators to her master, allowing him to deter simply by sending her to deal with, luring them in with her body, and killing them the same way. And they always fell for it, even the women. Today they were going to have another gathering, this time a private meeting with a group who had sent him a letter inquiring of her master when he had a free hour or so to meet with them in person, and quietly.

Crow hadn’t voiced her suspicions and trusted her master to allow her to protect him, as he has in the past. Entering the dining hall, Crow shifted from her diligent look that she wore almost always, she began to look more compliant, seeming to paying attention only when she was beckoned to. One of the guests called to her master, of whom had yet to call her to action. She listened carefully as the man spoke. “So it is true, it is nothing more than a compliant slave with pretty markings and a beautiful body.”

She felt her master’s pleasure at their ignorance. She didn’t make it obvious that she was sensing this, and instead, glanced at the feet of a guest, seeing his hand on the armrest flip over to beckon her. She paused for a moment, but her master’s voice called her to his side, now pulling out his chair while giving a show. She was known for this, she had to keep appearances. The more they grew entranced with her, the more they were likely to tell her master everything he wanted to know. That was her place, besides killing the men who would otherwise have him killed. After he sat down, he motioned to the armrest and she settled on her knees beside him, her head leaning against the chair. His hand settled above her head, playing with the strands.

“Magister Danarius, I’m sure you’re aware of why we’re here, no?”

“You wished to meet, and now we have. Anything beyond that has eluded me.” She watched all their feet shift. They knew where the power lied in this situation, and they knew it was with her master. She almost smiled at that. She didn’t, but she almost did.

She tilted her head as suggested by the tap Danarius had done with his forefinger, baring her collar to him as her reached down and pulled at it, indicating she should stand. He waved his hand and she glanced at the slave arriving. Wine. She stepped up to the slave, lifting the wine glass and bottle before turning back to her master, sitting on the armrest closest to her on her master’s chair. She concentrated briefly, creating just enough force to open the bottle. She lifted her head, watching it arc as she poured the wine. When Danarius took the glass from her she snatched the cork before it could hit a guest, she had been deflecting it in the air, subtly with her force magic. As she retracted from the guest, she glanced at his glass. Empty. She looked at her master, seeing him look at the stranger. “More wine?”

The man hummed, “Please.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. She sat on the armrest of the stranger’s chair, reaching for his glass, she felt his eyes on her, as all of the others, but her master’s. She poured the wine as Danarius spoke again. “So why are all of you here?”

“We have a proposition for you. Your slave here, it has lyrium branded into it, yes?”

“That she does.” Danarius casually corrected them.When she was done pouring the drink she brought it over to the guest she currently ‘pleasing’ and held it up to his lips. He complied and sipped the wine. She let him take it from her hand and she stood from his chair, returning to her master’s side, sitting on the floor and leaning on his chair.

This continued on for some time before finally Danarius leaned down and made her look up at him, “Crow, go and entertain these men, alright?”

Despite how it was posed, Crow knew it was a command, and deal had been struck. How, in all their idle chatter, she knew not. She nodded though, standing and moving to the first guest. She kept her gaze away from him, but his discomfort was evident. She had no order to stop, and she wouldn’t unless he spoke out. As she settled on his lap and leaned into him, he pushed her away and slapped her hard. She flew off him, onto the floor before him. She saw her mask on the ground in front of her. She glanced up at Danarius, hearing him beckon. He was furious.

“Crow. Kill him.” She stood slowly, head bowed, her bangs hiding her face. As she looked at him over her shoulder, the dread that had settled itself on him was fitting. She whirled, her hand shooting into his chest, her hand finding his heart easily, then she began to squeeze, closing her eyes as it solidified. Then he was dead. She removed herself from him, then hurried to master’s side as he stood, reaching up and setting a hand over her eyes. “Why did he assault my pet as he did?”

“He doesn’t- didn’t like women, they frightened him. I suppose his death doesn’t mean our deal has been negated?”

Danarius watched them, then looked at Crow who was calm at his side. “Do you know why she wears that mask, by any chance?”

“No, I thought it was curious given your last pet.”

Danarius smiled, turning Crow to face the men, then lifted his hand from her face. She blinked her eyes open, keeping her gaze on the table until Danarius prompted her to look around at the men sitting at the table.

They were dumbfounded. Then vicious glee broke out on their faces. “A wonderful catch, magister.”

“I think so too.” he hummed, bringing his hand around to cup her cheek and make her turn her face to look at him. “She’s so obedient, and loyal. Isn’t that right, Crow?”

She took him tapping her chin as a prompting to speak. “I am at your beck and call, master.”

He smiled approvingly. “Good girl. Sit down, you’ve done enough today.”

She nodded and sat on the table as directed, looking down at the floor where her mask lay in pieces. She listened to the guests speak. “Are you still going to work with us about those Lyrium soldiers? Or has the offense of one dead fool ended our talks?”

“Creating my pets is not easy. Crow was lucky to have survived, truthfully. Her predecessor was more fortunate in bodily health. She had just recovered from pregnancy.” Danarius hummed, watching her absently. “Her child is interesting though, the lyrium is taking quite well and the child suffers little to no pain. A miracle truly.”

The men hummed, “Do you think you can do it again? With the resources we have to offer, your research could reach a ground-breaking peak.”

Danarius hummed, watching the way Crow’s head tilted slightly, her eyes narrowing. She looked up at a window. She paused, her body training in on the window. He looked back to his guest and smiled, “Crow.”

She stood, blocking him from the shattering window with a barrier, glaring at the intruders. Danarius smiled then sipped from his glass, “You know what to do.”

She looked back at him, then her lyrium brands glowed, and she traveled the space between reality and the fade, only solidifying long enough to erupt the assassins in control flame, ice, or to stick her arm through their chests. When she had returned to her master, her arm covered in more blood, he praised her and gave her a victorious smile. She knelt beside him, keeping her bloody arm away from his clothes. He hummed, calling upon the blood and using it to fix the window to its polished originality. The guests looked more than pleased with her performance. “Well, magister?”

“Crow, entertain that man for the night, I’ll be sure that your beautiful mask is fixed by tomorrow morning.”

She nodded, knowing the deal had already been struck, and was now sealed as she stood and moved to the man she had been ordered to. She helped him from his chair, guiding him from the room to a guest room where the man was to be staying for the night.

She was payment, and the seal of this agreement. At least, for tonight.

\---

He sighed, looking out at the horizon. He scanned it, waiting for the waver that signaled something coming over its lip. It had been at least three days. He has to wait there for a grey warden, he had sent a letter a four weeks prior and hadn’t gotten correspondence, not that he expected any truthfully. As he finally looked down momentarily, he missed the cue he had been waiting for.

 

“Fenris!” he looked over to the sound of his name, seeing a familiar face easing some of the panic that coursed through him. The sight of the black-haired male with blue eyes and slightly tanned skin made Fenris breathe a sigh of relief.

“I almost began to think you wouldn’t come to meet me.”

“Yeah well, you got lucky.” He looked off to the distance, like he was looking for something. “I was sent this way for some questionable reasons that are grey warden business. You know I can’t tell you those reasons, I’m sure.

Fenris made a slight motion of acknowledgement to that and turned to face Carver fully, “Do you know about Hawke?”

“Who doesn’t? My sister goes missing and who's the first to here about it?” Carver looked to Fenris, “Varric. Who's the first person who gets questioned about her whereabouts? Me. Something about a brother-sister bond. I haven’t seen her for a little over a year, when Meredith went badshit.”

“I know. Varric has been keeping tabs on her, now that she’s gone.”

Carver’s brows knitted together. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“Varric didn’t tell you?” Fenris blinked, surprised.

“Tell me what, exactly.”

“Varric had been traveling with her when one day he woke up and she was gone, everything but her nightclothes still in her tent, her armor, staff, everything. There was no trace of her.” Fenris looked down, feeling the guilt begin eating at him once again.

Carver sighed audibly, “What bullshit has she gotten herself into now… Has he dredged anything up about her in the last year?”

“Y-” Fenris hesitated, the memory of what Varric had told him bubbling in his mind as he feared those written words. “Yes… He thinks she might be in Teventer…”

“Teventer? Why on earth?”

“He says she’s… different…” Fenris set his jaw, looking at the ground as his hands clenched and relaxed repeatedly.

“Different how?”

“He didn’t specify, just that she’s with..” The words died in his throat, he closed his eyes, forcing the words out of his mouth before he can’t talk, “With Danarius.”

“Oh. Well… well shit.” Carver sighed, “I don’t know whether to be upset with her, or disappointed she wasn’t more careful given everything she had going on at the time.”

Fenris took his turn to be confused. “What are you talking about?”

Carver raised a brow, looking at him, “My sister had a lot going on during Meredith and running from the chantry. Surely she…” His words died on his lips as realization struck upon seeing Fenris grow more and more confused and worried with each syllable from his lips. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Fenris growled, feeling hurt that he was left in the dark with something that seemed very important.

Carver snapped to attention, “She’s your mate, and she was pregnant with your child.”

Fenris wasn’t fazed by the remark about being mates, but the latter piece of information had his ears being pinned and his eyes widened, his lips parting in pure shock. He turned away, looking up at the sky, then looking to the north, towards the Free Marches. And Teventer. As the words sunk in, his mind swam, recalling the dream of the Hawke look-alike, holding a baby gently in her arms. He covered his mouth as his emotions rose into his throat, cutting him off from speech.

“I thought she would have told you… I thought you knew… She knew you wanted a family… but… the day she found out… was the day you… you saw Varania…” his blood ran cold, dread filled him that was two days before the chantry explosion. A little over a year ago.

Fenris whirled, “How do you know all this! Why do you know this! Do the others know! If not all of them then who!”

Carver took a step back as the elf took a threatening step forward. “She wrote to me, a lot. I don’t know why she wrote to, just that she did. I know Varric and Anders know for sure, and Aveline could see through my sister like glass. I think Isabela might have caught onto it, and she probably gossiped to Merrill… that archer… Sebastian? I don’t think he knew..”

Fenris growled, turning away. When everything goes to shit, he learns the truth. Just like the night he met Hawke, When he killed Hadriana. At the Hanged Man with Varania and Danarius. As he turned to look back at Carver he glared, “Tell me everything you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've almost finished the next chapter, but things are kinda iffy with it.
> 
> I also must apologize for the oocness happening in all of these chapters, and basically in the entire story. I will be happy to answer any questions you have if I can without confusing you or giving away plot.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Sigil

Carver glared, “And ignore the more pressing matter like-oh I don't know- my job? I know you love her, but you have got to know that my mission is kinda gonna trump me giving you a history lesson.”

Fenris bristled, “I need to know, Carver Hawke. I need to know everything she kept from me.”

The warden watched him, then looked back to the heavens, “Come with me, and I’ll explain on the way.”

The elf weighed his options, before sighing and looking away. “Fine. But you better not leave anything out.”

\---

It was late when they arrived. The cart rolled into the small courtyard meant for the deliveries, namely food and drink, not chests that are covered in a red glowing crystal that called to her.

She stood half a step behind her master, to his left, watching the busybodies of the delivery boys as they hurried to place the chests in the dungeon cellar. Her master seemed curious as to how she shivered as the chests passed her.

It called to her. To the lyrium. She felt the desire to eat. To gore. To devour. It wanted to devour her, ruin her so utterly. It made her skin crawl. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away slightly, looking down at her master’s feet. She saw his fingers twitch where they were clasped behind his back. She glanced up to see him raise his chin, a strange look on his face. It stirred something deep in her, something off which she suppressed, now wasn’t the time. And she shouldn’t question her master. She followed him as he made his way down into the cellar after the chests. Entering the hallway made her brands ache, the singing for her lyrium burned skin making her head swim. Her feet moved all on their own, and she lost her sense of direction, or motion for that matter. Everything was filled with a dull hum that slowly grew louder until it was a whisper in her ear, tickling her mind.She snapped from her trance when her master was holding her. She fell to her knees, shaking violently, waiting for punishment.

Which never came. “Come Crow. You need rest for tomorrow. You’ve been a very good girl, so let’s try to keep you that way. Yes?”

She nodded, getting to her feet and letting herself be led from the room, where her master remained to begin working. She feared he was upset with her, sending her away. It ate at her, and soon she found herself curling her fingers into her palm, her nails digging through skin.

_She’s been bad._

\---

Fenris continued to stare at the sky. It was late, the moon high and full, but sleep eluded him. He remained awake, his thoughts lingering over the long explanation Carver had orchestrated for the elf to fully understand. After everything, she still hid things from him. A child, knowing they were mates. All of it. He knew, he had studied the lettering on his wrist for hours after he learned, even inquired how her name was spelt. He had known, he had started to believe that is was possible, even just a chance. He had started to believe in a chance.

And yet she still kept secrets from him. The one that hurt the most was knowing they were mates. She knew, and didn't ask, she knew all along and never asked him about how he would have felt if it was them, if they were. Even hypothetical would have sufficed. If she had given a hint, or a sliver of hope for it, he never would have let her walk away.

Not like that.

\---

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Then the tears as her face bunched in dismay and her chin raised in defiance. “Fine, Fenris. Go. Leave and go hunt him, if that's what you want. But I won't be here when you get back.”

She turned away from the elf, pushing her black bangs from her eyes as she marched down the steps from the upstairs landing where he stood. She had her armor on, and her staff. But as she walked through that door, Fenris bristled a bit more. He stormed after her, she did not get to walk away like that. He wouldn't stand for it.

She was already marching through hightown when he walked out the door of the Hawke estate, her face set as she stared ahead. He charged after her, but he wasn't banking on her anticipating his chase. Just as he went to grab her shoulder, she sidestepped him, twirling to have him before her with her hand on his back. He felt the pricking of cold that came with her preparing an ice spell. With that she walked away, not a word spoken. But he got the message.

_Cool off before I make you._

He set his jaw before making his way to his stolen mansion where what little he had was. He didn't have time to stay. With every day at her side, was a day more hunters get involved and risk hurting her. He would not have it. Not now, not ever.

\---

Her eyes were closed, hands set against a firm chest with strong arms around her waist. She was pressed chest to chest with a man, her arms tucked against her sides and her head tilted to the side as if in an invitation for a kiss to the man before her. She recalled them pulling away for a brief moment, just enough to catch their breath, but nothing more. Then the scene changed. She was drinking, downing a mug and cheering all around--a bar? She slammed the mug down, the counter blossoming into clarity in her mind’s eye, revealing that she was at a bar, drinking and watching as a small bag filled with coins, copper mostly, but she could see silver as well. A contest perhaps? She watched as another mug was slid in front of her and someone caller her out to drink it. She felt the grin grow and then her hand around the mug. The scene distorted again, now with her laughing with people, they were unclear, but something was familiar about them, She wanted to hug them all, and some she did, giggling too.

Suddenly a sense of dread scourged her, and the imagery changed again, revealing her wiping away tears, trying to see where she was going. Then blinking a few times as the cavern-like carved walls cleared out into focus. She understood that this was some kind of lair. Then everything changed in her vision again as she found herself curled over a body of a woman, stitches all over and a veil and tiara laying on the ground as she cried, rocking back in forth. Then she found herself screaming, her fists flying in a fury as she wanted to hurt the person who stood before her, her body trembling as she did so. Then a she was in a room, a fire crackled in it’s hearth, and she sat in silence beside someone, who watched the fire with her, not filling the silence, just letting their presence ease some of the pain she felt in er chest.

One thought filled her mind. _I’ve lost my father, my sister, my brother and now my mother, but maker please don't take him from me too._

She woke with a start, blinking as she looked towards the window at the foot of her bed. It was still late, the sun yet to rise and fill the room with light. She looked down to see her daughter, curled up and fast asleep, peaceful. She smiled faintly, combing her fingers through blood-red locks. It was pleasant to feel her twitch, then nuzzle into the pillows with a smile. Crow got up from the bed, going and donning her cloth under-clothes which consisted of cloth leggings and a cloth chest piece that wrapped around her breasts then tucked under her collar, where she then tied two strings together, which held the ‘shirt’ in place. Her back was to always remain visible, no matter what. She then worked on the long train skirt she was to where, it dragged a few inches when she is barefoot, not that she minded. She worked with her belt next, then she located the mask her master had gotten for her ten years ago. Setting it on her face, she looked back at her daughter, smiling upon seeing the younger female rouse.

She blinked blearily into the dark then smiled at her mother, “Mama..”

Her call was a whisper, but enough to make Crow step over and smile, “Good morning baby girl, did I wake you?”

“Mn… no, It’s just about the time I wake anyway.” She smiled, then offered to help her mother tie the white ribbon and hide it under her silvery strands. “Besides, you are up early.”

“I suppose I am, Hopefully it shall become a habit.” Crow hummed quietly, beginning to braid her daughter’s hair now that the little girl was before her. Once her red locks were all tightly woven, Crow carefully tied a simple ribbon to its end. She smiled seeing the red head turn to look at her over her shoulder and returned the smile with one of her own. 

“Thank you, mama. I best get ready now though…”

“Yes…” she let the eleven year old get up and make her groggy way to the closet where her dresses awaited her. Mother and daughter spent their early hours helping one another, mainly Crow assisting her daughter with her robes and sash. By the time the sun began to reach their window, they were fully dressed and sitting one the bed, talking softly as the mansion came to life. As the first sliver of light finally touched the rug in her room, Crow stood, kissed her daughter goodbye for the morning, and then went to wake her master and assist him if necessary.

After dressing the magister, they went to the dining hall for breakfast. Then down into the dungeon cellar for more experiments with the red lyrium. It was dangerous, and he had been working with it for years but with no success. But now he looked to her, to his perfect guard. She was strapped to the table, black ink that shimmered and called to her, like the red lyrium, was etched into her hands, but they were like wards. It was trapped in the new markings, mixed with the ink, unable to taint her brands.

She thought that was it. She horrified to find she was wrong. A single injection into the brands, then singing. It roared in her, crawled about through her brands, trying to devour her, eat her alive, but the sigils on her hands prevented it. The red howled in rage, seeking vengeance, but found none. She would not kill her master, not now, not ever. More sigils were placed on her feet, sealing the strange lyrium within her. She didn't fight it, but it wanted her. So desperately.

But she remained herself, for her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! We've made it! The revamp is up and now we've reached a point where it'll take some time for chapters to be released. We're also reaching a point in which I'm thinking Inquistion will finally be played on a bit. We're gonna see where it takes us, hopefully it'll make these chapters more interesting and not just a bunch of thoughts that somehow go together in each. 
> 
> If you have any questions then please feel free to message me on Tumblr and I'd love tyo hear what you think of the revamp if you've read it before the change! Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you at the next update!


	5. I Hope You're Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crow trains and gets a taste of the red lyrium that now swims through her brands, only to fight and kill other trainees. When she's done, she's not seeing dead slaves, but a dead human girl, who--strangely enough--looks similar to her. Danarius is very displeased by this.
> 
> Fenris finally receives good news-- or so he decided he was going to view it. He also makes a strange new acquaintance, one he had highly doubted he would make in his entire lifetime. A little girl, the first to a keeper of a dalish clan.

“Crow, you will be going through training today. It's been a week. Time to see how it's settled in your body.”

Her master’s words fell on eager ears, as she nuzzled into his warm touch.

Ever since the red lyrium was put into the sigils on her hands and feet and into her brands, she’s found herself adapting to the cold by becoming warmer, adapting to heat by getting colder. Her body was lighter, faster, and stronger. She was still the slim, elegant mage she always has been, especially under her master’s care, but that was reinforced with the red that scoured her body day in and day out. Her eyes always remained blue, however. Stunning and untainted by the changes her body was facing. She found herself staring into a mirror with platinum white hair one day, and the next her hair would be the darkest midnight she had ever seen, beautiful but it never remained. She would watch as the strands faded to white. She never understood why it hurt when she watched it fade, and she never inquired into it, however the red dug at it.

_So, what has your master touched that he hasn't tarnished. White hair? Your skin? Your daughter too. He's ruined everything. You were once beautiful, that could have been you, black-haired and untouched, elegant and soft. But then your master shows up and everything went to hell. Such a shame you become the biggest waste in the universe._

She paid no heed to the red’s becking, refusing to give into its falsities. Her master has kept her perfected, he will not let her be ruined simply because of the corrupted lyrium singing just beneath her skin. She was, is, the only successful experiment with the strange lyrium in the ten years he has worked with it, and that is enough to know that she is going to be safe.

Training was strange. She was told not to use magic, only her body. She complied, but it was odd. She wasn't a fighter or a rogue, why on earth is she fighting like one? As the other trainee settled into their fighting stance, she rolled her weight to the balls of her feet slightly, enough to be ready, but not enough to be obvious. She waited, watching. Then the slave lurched forward, sword raised as he came to swing at her head. She twisted under the swing of the blade, her arm shooting out towards him as the red seared to her palm, then erupted from her brands. The sigil’s red did the same, and it formed a blade that crackled with corrupt energy, then she was shoving it into the slaves chest, feeling him go slack against her. She shoved him off, stepping away as the singing in her brands calmed considerably. The first sense of peace she’s had since it became a part of her.

“Impressive, Crow. Again.”

She glanced over her shoulder to her master, seeing his pleased smile. Something in her gut twisted, as did the red. That was even more disturbing. She looked down at her red covered, lyrium encased hand once again and frowned deeply. It has emotion? She glanced up, seeing the new slave running for her, raising her greatsword. Crow blanked, and the next thing she knew, her hand was embedded into the girl. She staggered back, looking at the red lyrium once again, pure shock gracing her features.

“Once more, Crow.”

She swallowed the lump in her throats and turned to see the next slave. Her gut was dropping to her feet, and the feeling terrified her. If she was to blank out again, she might do more damage than she would have intended, and that terrifies her. The next trainee she was to fight was an archer. He died quickly as she hurriedly used her brands to rush the young man, her hand grinding it’s place in his throat. She trembled, stumbling back as a wave of emotion flooded her system.

Flashes of a girl, human and innocent something supplied from deep within her, lay bloodied on the ground before her. She had dark hair, and light brown eyes, she was slightly tanned and her hand was limp but outstretched to a staff, like she was trying to get it before her fate befell her. Crow fell to her knees, a wave of guilt and a sharp edge of pain that washed over her, tearing over a wound she didn’t even know she had. Then the words echoed in her ears and the tears began to flow.

_“I don’t want a hero, I want my daughter!”_

Crow jumped at the feeling of a warm hand on her shoulder, turning to look up at her master. He frowned deeply at her state, and she looked down at the brick unable to stop the trembling. The girl’s blank stare sent shivers down Crow’s spine, and the slave looked to her master’s feet instead, “master… what? What am I seeing?”

She was forced to her feet by her master’s stern grip. She stumbled after him as he marched from the courtyard and into the dungeon. She was thrown into a cell, and her glared down at her from behind the bars. “What were you seeing?”

“A… a girl… she was dead… I-I don’t know who she was… just that someone wanted her…. not a hero…” she glanced up to see Danarius’s expression. It was muddled, confused and uncertain.

“Have you seen anything else like this?”

“A… a woman in a wedding dress, I thought nothing off it, it was so brief, like the red lyrium made it up, or it was a side effect, I don’t know….”

He frowned more deeply now, turning away and looking at a guard, “keep her locked up, she will remain here while I go out.”

“Yes, magister.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but not out of fear and desperation, it was of relief. That scared her even more than the flashes of the girl laying dead before her. She reached up to hold onto the bars, pressing her masked face against the cold metal.

“M-Master? Master please, please don’t leave here..! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! Please!”

He didn’t turn around at her words, he, instead, continued out of the dungeon. She let her hands drop to the floor, and she fell away from the bars, fear boiling up in her like bile.

_She’s been very, very bad._

\---

Fenris is couldn’t believe his eyes.

Ten years of bad news and suddenly he is enlightened that Hawke was being moved from Teventer. A good omen in a world gone stupid. He looked up from the letter, a small smile cracking his stern features. His hair falling away from his face as he searched the sky. Maker’s breath he had never felt so relieved in his entire life, she was getting sent out of Teventer.

But then the worry set in, but why? Where? In what condition? Is she going alone?

He looked back down at Varric’s handwriting, frowning deeply and rereading it for a third time to make sure he wasn’t imagining the words.

**Elf,**

**Hawke has been seen boarding a ship headed out of the Imperium. Danarius was sighted on the docks watching the boat leave. Rumor has it the boat is setting sail for Seheron, but several miles passed the border, the ship turned east around the continent. My contacts in Antiva say the ship was heading south, possibly to the Free Marches, but more than likely Ferelden. Nothing more than that, unfortunately.**

**V**

Something to look into. He may not have a description of the vessel, but he knows Teventer ships well enough to tell the difference. He might as well try. He sighed, turning and setting the letter down beside him, lost in his thoughts. He was not expecting the female elf of which he was acquainted with to approach him, nor to speak with him given how he had left.

“Is it about Hawke?”

He jumped, looking over to the blood mage, “huh?”

“The letter, Fenris. Is it about Hawke?” Merrill asked gently.

Fenris sighed, “yeah.” He must have seen tired and saddened for Merrill frowned sympathetically, and went to comfort him. He frowned in turn, “It’s not bad news, Mage, just a bit concerning.”

She blinked, “concerning how?”

“Hawke has been sent from Teventer, and was unaccompanied by Danarius. She has since been shipped out and hopefully to Ferelden’s northern border. The tricky part is whether or not Danarius has played Varric’s contacts. I can never be too careful with him. Every time he seems uninvolved, the more suspicious I get.”

“Y’know Fenris, it is possible that Danarius was unsatisfied with her and is sending her away.” Merrill was always the optimistic one.

“The likelihood of that is that of a pig growing wings and learning to fly.” Fenris snorted, “and to be fair, he would most likely still keep her. If not for his bodyguard or typical slave work, then for his blood rituals. Better to rid himself of one opposition than leave them unchecked.”

“Then why hasn't he hunted you yet?” Merrill snapped, frowning deeply.

“I bet he thought I would go to Teventer after her, and I almost did. If it weren't for Varric and Carver, I would be there already. Back into Danarius’ hands and probably not knowing of my life before returning to him.”

Merrill lost her edge, sudden dread showing in her eyes, “what do you mean?”

“I mean he’d have used blood magic on me. He would have forced me into not remembering you, and everything from the chantry, the nine years I spent in Kirkwall with Hawke. It all would be gone, completely wiped from my mind more than likely.”

“Then..?”

Fenris closed his eyes, bowing his head as his fists balled, “I am prepared for her to not recall who I am, or at the very least not remember me as she would in Kirkwall.”

“Oh… Fenris, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t.” He looked over to his right, where a clan of Dalish talked with Isabela, who was supplying them with some uncommon materials upon Merrill’s request, “I’ve known for quite some time now. She is not herself, especially now. If she has faced the same ritual as I, I am not surprised if she has a large gap in her memory.”

“ ‘Faced the same ritual’? You don’t mean?”

Fenris sighed, “Must I spell it out for you, mage?”

“She has lyrium tattoos as well?”

Fenris growled, “Yes.” He hissed, curling his armored fingers into his cloth gloved hands. “She has lyrium burned into her flesh, just as I. And a daughter, who is the same as her parents, branded and made a slave.”

Merrill gasped, covering her mouth as she took a step back as the ex-slave looked up at her. She was in shock, her hands covering her lips. Her hair had grown out significantly over the years, growing very curly. She had some of it cut nearly to her scalp and the rest pulled back and away from her face, save a few loose and shorter strands that didn’t reach that far back. She wore a bit more too, not that it mattered. It was the clear shock and horror in her eyes that gave Fenris pause. “A child?”

“You did not know?” Fenris blinked, honest to the maker shocked. “Does Isabela?”

Merrill shook her head violently, “No, and not that I know of. She’s never given any sign of knowing at the very least.”

Fenris ran a hand over his face, “Wonderful.” He looked off into the woods, deeper into the forest, in a close clearing he spotted a curious sight. An elven girl, seated with her legs folded as she practiced, her hands weaving through the air as lightning danced between her palms. He frowned. Another mage. He looked away, but the thought egged at him. He shook his head, sighing heavily and standing, “Just… Keep this to yourself, Merrill. I do not wish to return and have Isabela’s crew flapping their gums when and if I board it again.”

“I… I understand Fenris. And thank you, for calling me by my name for once.”

“Do not get used to it, for it will not happen again.” Fenris snapped, He then turned and headed towards the elven mage girl. As he stepped into the clearing, he glanced around and came to realize she was alone out here, completely and utterly. He looked down at her, their gazes meeting as she held out a hand in a warding motion.

“N-No closer, outsider. You may be of the people, but you are not of this clan, nor do you act of the people.”

“True.” He hummed in response. “For I am not a dalish.”

“What? But… you have valaslin..?”

“It is not. These markings are not of honor, and I will never see them that way.”

“A shame… they are pretty..” The girl kept her hand raised, but she visibly relaxed when he sat down across the clearing from her. “And you are not Dalish?”

“No, not that I can recall, at the very least....” He paused, finding the words he usually kept so close, so well guarded, came bubbling to the surface. He looked to the girl, her hand had lowered slightly, she looked curious, innocent and pure. In fact, she looked no older than 12. A curious thing. Why was a child out here alone? Did they not want her? It would be… somewhat understandable given the magic.

He felt guilt gnaw at him for that thought. And he knew exactly why. _Your soulmate and your child are mages. Did you not desire Hawke? Do you not desire her? And would you cast your only daughter to the wolves just for her magic?_

He sighed, “My earliest memories are of a city.”

She dropped her hand at this, surprise clear in her gaze, “You are… a city elf then?”

Worse, his mind retorted. “Of sorts.”

She frowned, “Can… Can we make a deal?”

“Depends on the deal.” He looked away from her, raising his chin to stare up at the break of leaves that blocked the sun from kissing his skin.

“I give you my name, if you give me yours. Might I know the name of the only elf who will speak to me?”

He blinked, he was the only person to speak to her? Why? What has she done? He looked down at her, “You give me your name and why you're clan won’t speak to you, and I shall answer one question, and give my name.”

She frowned, looking down into the grass before looking up. “Deal.”

“Fenris.” He leaned back into the tree trunk behind him, watching as the little girl sounded the syllables out on her tongue, trying to figure out how to say it.

She shook her head after a few more moments, “Kaylea, and… I got into an argument…”

“What kind of argument?”

“Abo-” She paused, realizing what he had just done. She frowned, “That wasn’t apart of our deal.”

“My apologies. You’re question?” He raised his chin, slightly amused at how quickly she caught on to the distraction he had planned out in his mind. She wasn’t to be so easily swayed into speaking about herself without him returning the favor, surely.

“What are those markings?” She shifted, squinting at him to see them better.

He hummed, raising his arm and removing the gauntlet and sleeve to reveal all of the delicate lining of the lyrium brands. “Lyrium. If you come closer, or allow me to walk over to you, I shall let you see, in turn, answer my last question.”

She hummed, “Deal. I shall go to you, and I was arguing about the Mahariel who had left her clan, not by will of course, and became a warden. My argument was about her falling in love. He was an elf, just… He wasn’t ‘one of the people’ and that enough was traitorous.” She stood, then walked towards him while she explained. Soon she reached six paces before him, then she sat down, and outstretched her hand. “May I?”

He frowned deeply, “I.. Do not let many people touch me.”

Her hand recoiled to her lap within seconds, “my apologies then, May I have a closer look?”

He sighed, the pushed himself from the tree and displayed his arm by twisting his torso slightly so it was closer to her. She seemed in awe with the work, “It’s very dalish, perhaps to mock your race?”

He huffed at that comment.

“I take it you do not care for the fact you are an elf..”

“It hasn’t done much for me, I’ll give you that.”

She frowned, “It hasn’t for me either, believe me. My clan doesn’t even wish to speak to me.”

“ A clan is like a family, am I wrong?”

“They aren’t feeling very much like a ‘family’ to me.”

“But at least you can be near them. See them and know they will hear, whether they acknowledge you is a different story.”

“What do you mean?”

Fenris sighed, “I dream.” He wondered thoughtlessly if this would even matter in a few years, when this little girl has forgotten who he is and what they are talking off. “I dream of the other half of my soul, and I see her caring for a child, unaware of my soul calling out.”

“You… dream of her?”

“Yes. When I finally began to hope for her.”

“She must be lucky then,” Kaylea smiled, “She has a very kind man thinking of her, though he may be covered in spines and a bit blunt. But he’s still a good man.”

Fenris wasn’t sure if he was amused by her comment, insulted, or flattered. Either way, he found himself giving a slight huff and shaking his head, “As unlikely as it is she shall even know me.”

“Is she… by chance, a mage?”

Fenris frowned, unsure if he should give such information out, but he silence seemed enough to satisfy the little girl.

“Then she shall know. If she is a mage, her soul will return the calling, and one day, she shall look at you and tell you the one thing you have wanted to hear but never knew.”

Fenris shook his head at that, and began to cover his arm once again, “You are a very strange child.”

“I may still be a child, but I am praying that one day my mate shall come for me.” She stood proud, then held her arm close to her chest, “My Vhenan shall come for me, you shall see. And one day he will tell me he was worried about me. I am a mage, and first to my keeper, and he will say ‘I was worried about you, what happened in the fade’?”

Fenris chuckled slightly, finding her confidence light-heartening. Such were the power of pure mages, untouched by the vileness that is blood magic, upon him. “You are a strange one.”

“Says the spiky, sparkly elf!”

\---

The boat swayed, the moaning of the wood in the sea lulling her awake. She wished to return to her slumber immediately, the boat was not where she was in her dreams, there she was with her daughter, in the comfort of the Magister’s mansion. Here, she was a slave to many masters, none of which who she had anything to hold her back from tearing their throats out and returning to magister Danarius and her daughter, except for the fact it would be shameful, and she was already a disgrace. That she knows.

Yet she still wishes to return. The fact she knows she can't was torture, and how her new masters prowled about her, watching the red hum underneath her skin. She loathed the way she had been chained as well. And her current use. With her hands bound high above her head and her clothes folded and stacked neatly across the room, she was to be their entertainment, as much as the means began to disgust her.

Over the weeks she'd been out at sea, more images, thoughts, crowded her mind. This time, most of them were of an undefined elven man. In these flashes, he's holding her gently and watching a fire crackle in a hearth, or he would sitting alone while taking occasional swigs from the bottle of wine in his hand, or he’ll be pampering her with kisses, hands settled one her waist to keep her close as he trailed over her jaw, neck, collar, and shoulders before finally returning his lips to hers.

She’d blink away these flashes, uncomfortable by what they could mean, and the red never hesitated to nag her, egging her to carrying on in the fantasies she was crafting for herself. _You want that elf to own you, pet you affectionately when you’ve been good, punish you when you’ve been bad. You ungrateful slave._

Her head rocked back as a hand curled into her hair, “I’m going to release you. You are to go and get dressed. There is a mask and clothes over there.” The slaver pointed across the hold to the folded stack, she quickly noticed the mask, it wasn’t what she remembered her last mask looking like. Not to mention she didn’t recall the slaver entering this part of the ship either. “When you are done, you are to find me on the deck. If you stray from this, you are to be severely punished. Clear?”

She nodded, as slight as it was with the woman’s hand bunching her bangs together and preventing her. Her head hung when it was released and the woman fiddled with the locks of her restraints, carefully removing them. She felt her brands spark, breathing down her neck was the red. It tickled her ear, _Prove that you are not an ungrateful slave, serve her to a T._

She sat there for a moment, watching as the red lyrium emerged from her brands and sealed her wrists, and healed the cuts from her restraints. When that was done, she stood unashamed of her bare form and walked over to her clothes where she began to dress. She was careful of her newest collar. The leather was itchy, scratching at her skin and marked. She dared not touch it either. It didn’t help that her markings still didn’t feel complete, but the red was awake, and it also hated this collar. She didn’t bother trying to convince it that it was necessary, especially if it meant she would have to admit to herself it’s entirely possible she’s going crazy. Had to be the red. She wanted it gone.

A loud yell from the stairs made her turn, her hands behind her head as she tied the leather strings of the new mask to her face, feeling the strange red strings graze her face. She didn’t take the time to admire the item, that wasn’t her job. Speaking of which, she watched the stairway suspiciously, letting her hands drop from the leather cords when they were tied and turned to face the intruder, or whoever was attacking the boat. 

She felt her brands ache as just beside the stairs a boy stepped out of what looked like the fade, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing her. “Good, you’re here. Come with me.” He offered his hand out to her, “Please, hurry.”

She frowned deeply, aware that he couldn’t see her expression except for her eyes. “Who are you? You are not one of my masters, are you the intruder?”

“I- What?” He blinked, shocked by her reaction. Crow took this moment to scan him over. His platinum blonde locks were pulled up into a high ponytail, waving as he turned his head quickly to look around the corner and up the stairs. When he retreated back into the room and started for her in a brisk walk, she saw his eyes were a glittering hasel. He was a bit pale, however the starts of a tan were clear on his cheeks. He wore a light blue drape over his left shoulder that cut across his chest and was tucked under his belt where the rest of it danced with his movement, emphasizing the slimness of his legs. She glanced up to his face once more, dully noting the worn out boots he wore, and examined his ears as he looked over his shoulder again. Pointed, ever so slightly. A half-elf. Just like her daughter.

“Kiki, Hurry up! We need to get into the fade and get to land soon. Half of the crew is still up and running in the crewman’s quarters, and the captain seems to be missing from his quarters too.” He turned back to Crow, just as a strangely blue-haired beauty stepped out from the bottom of the steps, then she slipped through the fade, using a spell Crow noticed, and appeared beside him.

“Feynriel, Grab her and let’s go.” Kiki demanded. Her eyes were like gold, glittering with power. Her strangely colored locks were intricately braided onto her left shoulder, leaving only the long straight bangs that frame the left side of her face out of the braid. She wore a bronze circlet that was inlaid with pearly white opals. The rest of her attire consisted of a light grey vest, a red and silver mantel that held sheer blood red sleeves that hung loosely and hardly touched her arms, which were covered with light grey gloves. She also wore a black sash, strange black leggings that had cut out stripes, black flats and an unreasonably long skirt that had two large gaps that enabled her to move unhindered, unless she got caught on something, Crow supposed. “We don’t have much more time, someone saw me coming down here.”

Feynriel, as he was now named, held out his hand, “Please, let’s get you out of here. For your daughter.”

Crow bristled, taking a step back and letting the magic dwelling in her brands to be used, but she gasped at the sudden choking feeling as the collar activated, numbing her markings and causing her to fall into the strangers’ opening arms as they both caught her. Kiki wasted no time in ordering Feynriel to get them off the boat.

Crow felt the fade. The call of demons. She steeled herself, knowing that only she was real, and her captors possibly. Her will was the only thing that was real to her. But as she watched them take her off the fade boat, she saw a familiar shore, with familiar faces that left her shivering in her captor’s hold.

“Can we reach that alley?”

“Yes, barely. Taking her is becoming hard, her collar is trying to pull her back to the physical world, I’m bending it’s reality as best I can, but it’s growing difficult.”

“Understood, then I’ll carry her the rest of the way, just get us there.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Within a few minutes of Crow’s head spinning from feeling a sudden wave of power around her throat from the collar suddenly activating for a brief moment before it’s power was silenced once again, she found herself in an alleyway, gasping for breath and her hands clawing at the air near her collar. She so desperately wanted to rip it off, but she knew better than to try. It was designed to hurt her when she disobeyed, tried to step into the veil, or tried to take it off. She was learning, despite having not tried to take the damned thing off. Feynriel stepped up to her and went to reach around her neck but she lashed out, slapping his hand away before a jolt ran through her, the collar activating and sending electricity through her frame. She grunted loudly, the collapsed against the wall, panting. “D-Don’t touch it.. You are not… my master…”

Feynriel frowned, “I suppose that her mind has truly been altered. I don’t dare try to alter the reality of it, too risky, and I cannot fix it for the magic is a maleficar’s. Must be a powerful magister’s work judging from her reaction.”

“Why else did we get her. She still thinks she is a slave. Let’s get her out of her and back to the base here, in the frostbacks. We need to get her away from the Venatori and work on examining her mind before they land and hunt her down.”

“It’s possible they have made her a phylactory, it would be dangerous to take her to base.”

“I’ve already checked, a woman I encountered on the way down to where you were had it, I took care of her and vial.” Kiki knelt and lifted Crow’s arm, looping it around her shoulders and helping the slave to her feet. “Alright, come on, I know it hurts but we’ve got to move.”

“I’m sorry about this, Hawke.” Feynriel sighed, moving to Crow’s other side and mimicking Kiki. “I can’t do anything to ease the pain, my powers from being a dreamer don’t allow that of me. And even as a mage, I haven’t studied healing arts.”

Crow frowned at the name ‘Hawke’. “C-Crow.” She corrected as they began to lead her out of the alley and towards the woods just beyond the wall of buildings.

“Crow? What about Crow?”

“M-My name..” She tried, tensing as she took her first step and the leftover electricity coursed through her brands.

Feynriel cringed at her gasp, then frowned deeply, “What have they done to you, Hawke? I’m so sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner.”

“Feynriel, now isn’t the time for regrets, we need to get her out of here, and try to locate someone who might be able to help her before all the Venatori can track us back to base and recapture her.” Kiki waved her left hand over Crow’s back and the pain ebbed away with the surge of healing magic. The slave decided it was best not to stop her captors any more, for she did not like that particular feeling.

“I hope Fenris hasn’t left Ferelden, Kiki. He might be able to help us.”

Fenris? Who was? Crow’s head swam, the red preying one her as unconsciousness beckoned to her.

“I hope you’re right-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks! It feels like I haven't worked on this in ages! I'm so sorry that it's been so long without an update! I'm afraid that updates are going to become even more infrequent as I start school in three to four days, however I will still try to update at least once a month if I can! I'm sorry if I'm late on future updates, and I do hope that all you lovely readers are enjoying it thus far! For those of you who have read it before the revamp, and for those who are reading for the first time! I'd also love to know what you guys think of it now, and I'd love to see your questions or comments about From Hawk to Crow!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you at the next update!


	6. Guardian Presence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Turn back  
> Turn back
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> He cries  
> All the day long
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Turn back  
> to your Shepherd
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> The Guardian  
> of your soul
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> The Guardian  
> cries
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Turn back  
> and follow Me....  
> 
> 
> \--Cynthia Jean, The Guardian Cries

She was happy to see the redhead dance about the courtyard, giggling and laughing as she pranced about. Her teal gaze locked with her mothers and they seemed to bond, then the little girl walked up to her, reaching up to brush her hand along her face. The imagery changed, she began to look up as the warm hand that brushed away her tear tingled with magic. She knew not why, just that it did and it was oddly satisfying. She leaned into their touch and saw the faint smile bloom one the obscured elf’s face. He was male, so it was the man from before, from all the others. He leaned down, gently bringing her face up to kiss. Then they were yelling, screaming at one another. She was taking his anger with ease, and throwing her own his way. The dog--mabari it seemed- raised its head and cocked it, as though confused who to side with. They always had seemed to get along before. Finally, the fight ended with her screaming at him one last time before storming off. Then the light blinded her from opening the door out into--

She woke to cool stone on her back. She sighed in relief, the cool pleasant as she shivered, her body awakening like her mind. The softness of sheets brushing against her arms and back made her look around, lifting her head and propping herself up. She half expected a mysterious elf male to be seated at her bedside, but certainly not to be in a vacant cave with crude furnishings. She swung her legs over the edge and looked around, frowning as she tried to determine where in Thedas she was. No answer came while she was still disoriented, waking up and stretching. The Frostbacks. The name came from a foggy memory. She was… captured? She assumed that was the case, but she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. What did they want with her? Do they know of her abilities? Of the red?

“She should be waking soon, I’ll go and check up on her now.” Crow tensed, looking to the small alcove’s opening where the familiar face of the half-elven boy emerged. He breathed in a gasp at seeing her up, “Kiki…”

Crow growled, reaching up to check for the collar, frowning deeply when she barely touched the leather and it hummed against her throat in warning. She was restricted to the physical world then. Wonderful. She tried calling on her magics, not from the brands, but her spells. The collar protested, but did not hurt her as before. Good, that was something. Her arms swung out in front of her, she began to form the spell, feeling the fade bend just enough to call forth the power, but then it was disrupted, her body tensing and rocking forward as electricity ran through her. She collapsed on the ground, gasping and growling when she could as the collar once again stopped her from getting away from these captors.

“Kiki! Get in here! She’s awake!” Her hurried over, Feynriel, her mind supplied at last.

“I… will not… give in…” She through breathless whispers.

Feynriel frowned, “Hawke, don’t speak, please. You’ll only hurt yourself more. We’ve contacted a friend of yours, and he’ll be here in a few days, okay?”

Crow shuddered when her warm hand settled on her trembling shoulder and she resigned herself to her fate, aware she was powerless. She cried then, unable to stop. She grieved, knowing she’d never get to see her daughter again tore at her being. 

_Aleu, be safe!_

\---

He had never felt this cold since Hawke had glared him down the fateful day. The day he fucked up the world, the day he betrayed her so deeply it affected how she spoke to him, how she looked at him. He had hurt her, stabbed her so deeply in the back that he didn’t know that even with all his respect for her and her decisions that he’d ever be able to rebuild that friendship they once had. He thought it wasn’t possible, but this note proved him dead wrong.

**They say you hurt her. They also say you walk the land healing spirits. It’s time you healed hers. The hawk cannot fly with broken wings.**

**Go to the frostbacks and you shall see what has been made of our bird.**

He wasn’t sure if he should believe the note, but he had no other hope at redemption. Even when he stopped to heal random strangers he met didn’t stop him from this torment of guilt and self-hate. Hawke had spared him, somehow, yet her command was more torturous than the thought of death. She could not have known what it felt like to exist with justice and vengeance so greatly intermingled with his own consciousness and to live in a world where circles rebeled and fought with templars who had no chantry support. It was shocking, and it made the spirit trapped within him fight and writhe in his being. It hurt to know what he knows. How this chaos was started.

It was all his fault.

\---

Fenris walked the path leading towards the shrine. He didn’t know why, but that it was revered by the dalish clan near by. Although their reverance is more of fear than of anything else. Now, Fenris didn’t think he’d be going to a shrine of Fen’Harel ever in his entire life. But this one time, he’d go. For the sake of Kaylea, who walked beside him silently, a few paces away. She looked at her feet, frowning deeply. This seemed to be normal, for she didn’t even need to be asked where to go when there was a fork in the path. She turned right and continued to march on. She raised her head at last and looked at the decor as they walked up the steps, watching as the path glowed when they walked. A strange phenomenon, for sure. She sighed at last, seeing the statue of the lying wolf, head high as it looked over them with stone eyes.

Kaylea turned abruptly once having reached the statue, one hand on it’s stone base, then she took off, racing down the path they had just walked. Fenris blinked, in shock of the sudden change. What was that all about? He sighed, looked back at the shrine. He stood there for a long moment, then he closed his eyes, breathing in to begin what he had resigned himself to. He may not believe in them, but it wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Fen’Harel, you son of bitch. They say my misfortune is your fault. I can’t blame them, and after everything, I might believe it. So. Fuck you.”

With that he turned around and chased after Kaylea, though he supposed it would be following her back to the camp, though he wouldn’t be surprised if they ran into each other one the way back. He was a lot faster than her, especially when he activated his lyrium markings. He decided against it now though, he found the rush of the forest wind against his skin pleasant. That at the very least was something to relish for now. He wasted no time in finding Kaylea however. Again, she was in the clearing where she could see her clan, but if you weren’t looking, she would be missing. He had noticed that over these three days that they never looked for her, unless it was the keeper who was hesitant to do so due to the rest of the clans unrest. They practiced magic there, Fenris had noted even though he wasn’t allowed to remain.

“They do that normally, you know.” Kaylea huffed. 

“Send you to the shrine?” Fenris glanced over towards the bulk of the clan, seeing Merrill argue with someone.

“Yes, they send me there saying that the keeper had ordered it, in reality it’s just to stop me from learning magic with the keeper. He doesn’t have any control over this, though and it’s a bit frustrating. And extremely sad too. He’s loved by them, unless he’s dealing with me.” She curled up into herself, her fists balling in frustration.

“Sounds like everyone has a stick up their ass.” Fenris hummed thoughtlessly, “A mage is dangerous yes, but an unknowing mage is even more so.”

She seemed to sense something change in him for she looked up and sighed, “I’m sorry, I’m complaining to you, and I really shouldn’t. You have it worse than I.”

“You don’t have to act like that. Your situation is bad too. Mine was just my mistake.”

“What do you mean.”

Fenris kept his lips sealed this time. Looking down to the base of a tree, where a single flower bloomed and swayed in the shade. A beautiful scarlet. Kaylea looked down at the flower, then looked up at him again, “I like to call it Mala Vhenan. ‘Your heart’.”

“What?” He turned to look at her, confused.

“The flower. I don’t know what it’s actually called, so I call it Mala Vhenan. It’s pretty, and red with the color of love.” She smiled at that. “One day, I’ll give that to my mate, and we shall enjoy the sunlight and hold each other while smiling fondly at one another.”

The ex-slave watched the young mage curiously as she stared longingly at the flower, “Tell me, do you know about your mate?”

“Only a little, like his voice and that he was a templar.”

“Was?”

“He left the order a while ago due to an uprising. He has since been traveling back to ferelden.”

“He wasn't here before?”

“No, he wasn't, but that is alright. I'm not upset, and I can't imagine why you'd be upset by it.”

“I just find it odd. A templar and a mage, ah how fate loves to twist us about.”

“But do you fight it? I do not, in fact I embrace it. Fate is what brought me to where i am now, and I believe I am stronger for it.”

Fenris made a noise akin to agreement, but it was rather dismissive to those who weren’t familiar with him. Kaylea rolled her eyes, “Of course. You’re so dismissive.” He didn’t comment to continue the conversation by morphing it into a debate. Instead he let his thoughts wander, nowadays there was a faint tugging at his wrists, usually drawing them together and above his head. Sometimes it was out and as though he was being helped, the tops of his feet felt sore occasionally as though they had been dragged across the ground and other such odd sensations. Now, as though by a miracle, he felt free, his arms resting gently against his stomach(or at least they were pulled there by an invisible force) and his head swam briefly before he closed his eyes and imagery erupted upon his eyelids, drawing him into a new scene.

This had never-ever- happened before.

His head lolled to the side, his eyes blinked blearily open to see a young half-elven man. He seem worried and instead of smiling in a friendly greeting, frowned deeply as though troubled. Fenris easily placed him as Feynriel, though he looked older, the softness and rounded face he had when he was much younger had hardened and sharped into his masculine oval, shape. He was still lanky, he caught sight of the rest of his body when he stood and walked to his feet, which where not his feet at all.

He quickly understood to whom those feet belonged. The sudden alarm that bloomed in his chest gave way for him to understand she had become aware of his mental presence in her mind, seeing through her eyes. He forced his own eyes open, reaching up and rubbing at his temples with his forefinger and thumb.

So she was with Feynriel. How strange.

And how becoming it was that he was seeing these things. He was doing things he shouldn’t be able to. She must, somehow, be cut off from this. That could be the only explanation.

_My the Dread Wolf take me, what is going on?_

\---

The presence was gone for now, but that didn’t mean it would not return. She glared at Feynriel, shivering and pulling away from while pulling the blanket up and around her shoulders to keep out the cold. She cursed her own weakness. She knew she would remain at the same temperature for the rest of her life if the red was never removed, but that wasn’t the point. She needed to watch them, these captors of hers. She had no allegiance to her masters, but they owned her, she is their property, and thus must return to her keepers who fed her and bathed her, and clothed her. She is not an ungrateful slave, she’ll prove it.

_“Sure you aren’t, that is why you haven’t killed this child and fled! That is why you remain still.”_ The red taunted her, egging her into action. She almost caved in.

But doing that would surely kill her, the collar. 

The red sighed in her brands, then rolled under her skin, _“Of course, excuses. Just let them take it off! Then you can slaughter them, take the collar back to you're masters and have it put on again! Blasted fool!”_

If it was removed, it would mean she was ungrateful, no matter how much she begged to be forgiven, she would be killed. She refused.

_“Suite yourself, you weakling, but know you have been warned!”_

She sighed faintly when the red settled and became a dull throb. She could focus, maybe. But just as she returned her attention back to Feynriel, she was caught off guard as he gently blew a sweet smelling smoke towards her, which suddenly eased her stiffness, relaxed her frame and coaxed her into sleep. She settled against the mattress and drifted into the world of dreams, seeing her little girl dance gracefully. But this time, just across the courtyard stood a mysterious figure, male and elven from what Crow could discern, and she couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering to him. She felt his on her, though she still received no detail of his frame.

_A shame, for he must be very handsome if he is the father._

Crow blinked.

“If he is the what?”

\---

Her voice made him still, it was a mumble, a fumble for words in a sleep stupor. He crept into the alcove, his gaze flickering over the assortment of boxes and crates, a chest in the corner with a strangely beautiful red and ivory paint job with accents of silver inlaid into it in intricacies he couldn’t waste time on examining. Then his gaze fell on her. He sucked in a breath, unable to believe his eyes as the lack of pigment in her hair alarmed him greatly.

Silver white fell in a snowy storm atop her sun-warmed ivory skin that shimmering white-blue in the veil fire candle light. The sudden dark leather of the collar around her throat made him frown, his brows creasing. Under that her red clothes made her alight with some color before the sun-bleached blanket covered her. She shifted, mumbling incoherently, but some things reached his ears.

“Aleu” She would murmur harshly, “Stay… from him.” She rolled, nuzzling into a pillow and murmuring some more.

“Is there anything that you can do? Can you even tell from here, Anders?”

“N-No!” He jumped, suddenly aware of the fact he was most definitely not alone. He walked briskly to her side, skimming over her vague form under the blanket and chose to leave it for now, he wasn’t going to deal with her body’s condition, he was here for her spirit. He is a spirit healer after all. Taught her everything she knows too. He waved his hands over her, closing his eyes briefly to settle the spirit that was bound inside him before letting himself inspect her state of being.

Justice easily bristled.

Her memories, he noted, are missing, somehow wiped. The echoes of a blood magic ritual along with an immense amount of lyrium alerted him to the fact that it was probably locked up somewhere in her being. Ah yes! There, in the smallest part of her mind sat a box. It was unlocked, leaking slowly as memoried over flowed from it’s rim, but unable to burst free. He focused on this and found himself staring at--

_The maker damned elf_ \-- Fenris-- and he was yelling at him.

“I’m doing this to protect you! Hawke--” Ah, that makes sense, he was in her memory of this moment, but then why are they fighting?-- “He will kill me! Hurt you, take away Drake--” Fenris cared about Drake? Good to know that the elf had a weak spot for mabari. Especially since Drake had come from Ostagar with Carver and hand inprinted onto her when Carver left for the wardens-- “Or kill him for that matter! I cannot let a tiger out on the loose when it could come after you! And is after me! He puts you in danger!”

“Fenris, He is consuming you, can’t you see?” Hawke’s voice pleaded so desperately with the elf who grew angrier with each word she spoke. He still leaned into her touch though, reaching up to wrap his own hand around her slim palm. Anders almost envied Fenris in this moment, simply for the fact he never got the chance to have this again, the love of his life. He shook himself from his thoughts and watched the scene continue. “What happens if he catches you? I’ll never see you again! I’ll lose you all over again and I cannot bear that again! Fenris please don’t go! Drake loves to sit and read with you, and Orana likes making meals for you, Bodahn writes to me, asking about you! Don’t you see? They care and worry about you! I need you here! I love you, and I will be a fretting mess if you are out there!”

“Faere…” Fenris murmured softly, his hold on her hand tightening, “I have to go. I won’t let him hurt you.”

The tears pricked and rolled down her cheeks, and she tore away from him, leaving him hurt and clearly angry. She lifted her chin, letting her fury show, “Fine, Fenris. Go. Leave and go hunt him, if that's what you want. But I won't be here when you get back.”

With that she whirled around, marching away. He could practically hear Fenris grow angry and begin to charge after her. Then he pulled himself from the memory, blinking his eyes open and seeing could blue eyes staring him down, red lyrium blade at his throat.

“Who are you.” She demanded. Despite everything, it still hurt to know she didn’t remember him, especially when she said it so bluntly in the form of a demand.

“My name is Anders. I’m only here to help you.”

“Help me how.” She flicked her gaze to the doorway, snarling and bringing the weapon closer to Anders, making him lean back and swallow thickly.

“I’m a healer, I was called to see if I can assist you in remembering everything about your life. But I cannot. Instead, I’d like to see if you are healthy. I wish you no harm.”

She glared hard at him, this time bring her blade close to herself and watching him. He waited for a few moments, then when he was about to move she pricked her skin and drew a long line down her forearm. He watched in horror as the red lyrium sealed it shut, leaving not even a red mark behind. “I am fine. If I was not, I am now. Unless you have somehow compromised my brands more so than they already are.”

Brands. He looked at the markings tracing over her arms and neck and forehead(At least what he could see) and swallowed again. “Are they lyrium?”

She tensed. So he was right.

“ I see… I have no idea how to make them useless, and you seem to be capable of a lot of things presently, I know not of any means you are confined. Well, except for the cave of course. It was a pain in the arse to find, maker damned frostbacks.”

“You talk too much.” She glared.

“I suppose I just need to talk after years of near complete solitude and running from practically everyone.”

She snorted, “Ungrateful.” She then turned away at that, moving towards the wall and settling against it to glower at the bed in between them, refusing to meet his eyes anymore. This seemed more out of disgust than anything else however. He cocked his head in mild confusion, but he already had his answer. He sighed, turning away to carefully remove his staff and lean it against the makeshift bed. The silence was thick, heavy, suffocating. Even as he turned back to her, he had never heard anything that indicated she had moved. And yet here she was, leaning over the edge of the bed to stare at him hard, dead in the eye when he returned his gaze to her. He jumped, leaning back into the chair in shock, it wobbled with the sudden force of him moving so violently.

“Tell me, healer, what magister did you serve under?”

“Wh-?” Anders blinked, trying to process what she meant by that. His brows arced skyward when he began to understand. “You think I’m an exslave?”

She frowned deeply, “Are you not?”

“No!” He flinched at his own tone, seeing how she winced visibly, flinching back and recoiling to press herself against the wall. He regretted his reflexive instincts to refute that instantly. “I’m sorry, but I was never a slave in my life. Well, unless you consider the Circle a place like a slave housing, and the Templars their keepers.”

Crow frowned, “C-Circle? You mean like the Ferelden Circle and their police officers posing as though they are in control?”

Anders stared at her hard, “If it weren’t for the blockade in your mind, I’d have called you crazy.”

\---

The presence was back. She straightened, looking down at the bed and sorting through her thoughts. Why was it here, what did it want, what was it after. Whose presence was it? She felt the confusion from the healer before her, the ungrateful ex-slave who was refusing the truth of the matter. Despite how much she hated herself for this, she found the presence in her mind mildly comforting. She refused to admit it, and refused to let the thought linger.

The presence seemed to flutter in her mind and she blinked, cocking her head while she tried to understand what it was expressing. Joy? Elation? Humor? It settled after a few more moments, a steady presence, humming faintly in her mind. Then the words flooded her mind, surging up to meet the presence in a rush of an unnamed emotion Crow was unable to place.

_‘I missed you, I need you, Where are you?’_

The presence felt like it laughed in her mind, she settled again, curling up and pulling a pillow to her chest. She looked up to glare at the healer.

_“Is that Anders?”_ The presence whispered faintly, a strong, throaty voice. It was gruff, as though now angry(which was happily expressed as the presence swirled around in her mind and prowled about) at the sight of the blonde man.

_‘Who?’_

_“A mage of great healing skill, but decided it would be smart to start a war.”_

_‘That sounds foolish, and why is he not dead for his deeds?’_

_“That… will take a lot of explaining, so when I reach you I will explain.”_

Reach her? Where in Thedas is he then? Is he not here? In these caves? Was he not in Ferelden?

The presence seemed to try a comforting motion in her mind, swimming around and settling near her center, then eased. _”Don’t be afraid, I will reach you.”_

No matter how hard she fought the emotion, Hope bloomed in her chest. The red surged, rising and Bearing down on her center of mind, her being. _You ungrateful slave! You think you will be freed by an illusion of your mind? A foolish thought!"_

Then the presence, her guardian she settled on, reared to block it, fight it. _“I am no illusion!”_

The voice of the presence was now guttural and angry. Raw with emotion and pure rage and fierce protectiveness that made the red recoil in shock before it began to barrage them, her and the presence. She wanted to submit, but her guardian gave her hope, hope to fight that was so inexplicable she had no words to explain, then it wrapped around her center, taking the brunt of the barrage, and she felt at ease. Peace settled over her and her brands no longer seared from the red that roared through them, she was at a place of complete ecstasy. She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing. She suddenly felt the cold. She shivered for the first time in what felt like ages, she pulled the blanket up and around her shoulders, shivering again.

_‘Guardian, It’s cold where I am. And the people around me have mention a place. Do you promise to find me? Help me return to my little girl?’_

_“Nothing will keep me from you. And I will get you to your daughter.”_ Her guardian seemed slightly pained, but said nothing to give her pause. It was just his feeling. She settled within his embrace, then let herself remember her captors talking of the frostbacks. It was a satisfying feeling to feel him grow stronger with the knowledge.

She opened her eyes and blinked at the healer, seeing his obvious confusion and bafflement. “Are you… alright?”

Crow huffed, feeling her guardian’s anger at the healer speaking to her with such concern. The possessiveness was oddly satisfying. She turned her head, glaring at him while pulling the blanket further around her shoulders. “Leave me be, Healer. I have no need of you.”

The healer-- Anders, her guardian once again supplied-- was stunned. But frustration showed in his eyes before he stood, grabbing hold of his staff and turning to leave, “I will not force upon you help, especially when you do not wish it.” As he stooped low toslip from the alcove, he muttered under his breath softly, “She sounded like--maker take me now-- Fenris.”

Another hush came from beyond the alcove, but Crow paid no heed and instead settled herself away from the wall and bundled herself up and buried her face into the blanket, warming her now chilled nose. She conjured an image of her daughter, it was easy given the motherly familiarity with her child. Her guardian tensed as though he could see it too.

She was standing in the master’s courtyard, her raven red hair dancing about her in swirls of crimson and scarlet. Her sea green eyes danced with flickers of silver and gold as the sunlight illuminated her features, making her skin glow like the wheat in the harvest time. She was the only true color in the image, her soft lips just pink enough, and her smile soft. Her lashes long and fluttering in the lazy breeze. She blinked her eyes a few times then turned to look at her, and the shimmer of lyrium in skin. The soft faint swirl of it on her cheek. She smiled fondly, then turned back to look out at the grey horizon. As she began to speak, her words were drowned out by the pure sorrow that came from the presence that protected her from the red.

_“She’s beautiful.”_

Crow’s heart swelled, and she allowed herself a small proud smile.

_‘I know.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygoshimsosorryforthedelaypleaseforgiveme!
> 
> Okay, so I've been in school and I have been working on this chapter religiously; however, my studies must take priority and I have been working hard to get all my work done before I start writing again every night when I have free time. Now that it is the beginning of the weekend for me, I can write freely for the time being and I shall try to work more on the chapters to come, but I must warn you that I cannot make any promises on updates weekly, but I shall strive for at least monthly updates, three months at the latest. again, I'm so sorry for the delay and I do hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I have writing it. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and I hope to see you at future updates! Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter, I'd like to improve and grow stronger as a writer. Thank you _again_ and I'll (hopefully) see you at the next update!


	7. The Truth About Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is reading a book! Crow isn't having as much of a good time.

Never had he ever felt so happy.

And so sad.

He reached out to her once again, her cheek turning to brush against his palm. She hesitated, realizing what she had done. He paused, hand hovering over her face. Her eyes fluttered, her gaze dropping to the fire burning in the hearth just to her right. He frowned, uncontrollably mind you, and reached up with his other, letting his first drop to his side as he brought her gaze back to him. She was mildly stunned by his touch. But she cracked a smile upon seeing him watching her. He noticed the flush on her cheeks, the way she looked at the ground and bit her lip. They way her blush only grew darker the longer he watched her. She shifted, making him drop his gaze to her hands as she rubbed her arm, swaying on her feet.

“Fenris… I-”

“Don’t.” He growled. She flinched, then looked at him again.

“But I sho-”

“What you should do, is be quiet.” He snarled, stepping closer and dropping his hand. She stuttered, stumbling back. She tripped over her own two feet and went to fall. Lucky for her he wasn’t going to let that happen. His right hand shot out to wrap around her waist and pull her up against him, saving her from falling back on her ass like a fool. “Or trip. That also helps get you to think less.”

She swallowed thickly, he was keenly aware of how she was reacting to him(and part of him loved it). “Oh…”

He growled when she didn’t look him in the eyes, but her gaze did remain on his face. He took a step back, loosening his hold on her and letting her steady out. He wasn’t however, expecting her to come chasing after him as he pulled away, attempting to stop himself from continuing in this foolish pursuit of his.

He was happy when she stopped him from running away from her again. This felt amazing. She gently pulled him back towards her, her hands on his jaw, and brought him down to her where she gently brushed their lips against one another. She shivered, or was it him? He couldn’t tell. Then his hands settled on her waist, holding her still and guiding her closer subconsciously. He only recalled such a thing due to the fact that they quickly became hip to hip and his awareness sharpened ten fold when he felt his hand slide lower than her waist, making her flush a beautiful shade of crimson red. “Fen-”

“Shut up.” He hissed softly, capturing her small whine of protest, probably from getting cut off, with his mouth to silence her. It was quite pleasant to know he had done this to her, and now she was stuck with it. Pulling away just long enough to speak, he growled, “I don’t need to hear it.”

He woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as he recalled the events of that evening as they unfolded. He knew what that night had done to them, though he was quite astounded now why he was so afraid of such a bond to the woman he knows he loves with or without this craziness of soulmates. He looked around, sighing when he realized he is on a boat. Isabela’s to be precise. He shifted, getting up and locating the book he had been struggling to read before he went to sleep. He sighed, seeing the cover where silvery lines swirled across the leather to create the words _Soul Bound_. He flipped the book open, finding where he had left off just the night before and resumed reading.

A soul pair is a very rare thing, and depending on the case, can appear in three forms.

The first form is in mark, common for those who have no gifts to speak of, like an uncanny skill to fight.

The second is in dreams. This is common for many fighters, and the occasional roguelike. It has been said many great kings have been dreamers, not akin to the teventer legends, however.

The third is in voice. In this instance, it is most common for those in touch with the fade, mages to be precise. This is the most interesting of cases, for the mage can hear their soulmate beckoning, like a tug on their very being that pulls them towards their other half. This is also extremely dangerous for the mage, for it makes them susceptible to a demon tricking them.

On some occasions, a mix of two of the three will occur, a roguelike will dream of their fighter, whose name is inked onto their skin permanently by fate. The most rare, and has been occurring more frequently by the day, is the appearance of all three forms.

Many call this case “Soul Fated” or “Soul Mates”.

Fenris frowned, ran his fingers over the page. He knew what he was seeing was all recorded by people who knew what they were talking about. It must have taken Hawke a decade to get her hands on this book, and he had it from her library. He had snuck out with it one night when Hawke was too tired to notice, and had read some of it in his mansion, before he had been asked about moving into hers, which he almost did before their fight. Luckily for him, he took everything precious he had and took great care of his items, aware of the fact it was all he had.

Fenris ran a hand through his hair, sighing when he pulled it through long silver strands that need to be attended to soon. With a huff he turned closed the book gently. He’d never harm that book, not when it explains everything.

\---

Watching him was just as ridiculous as hearing about Isabela flaunt her junk. Of course, she was keenly aware of the fact that this man was far more interesting that Isabela was when looking for a partner, which was always shut down by Merrill. No, in this case it was impossible to tell whether he had been honest, or had been a scheming snake. Of course, Cassandra didn’t dare bother with the idea now, it was too much work to try and get him to explain anything further, in fact it was probably futile. She had never really liked the idea that he was lying about knowing where the champion is, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to bring her inquiries to the divine. She sighed, making the dwarf behind her humm, “Tired, Seeker? Would you like to rest?”

“No.” She retorted abruptly.

“Oh come now Seeker, you know full well that I have told you everything! Why am I being taken to the divine again?”

“Because she has yet to decide your fate. You will tell her the story again and she shall give judgement.”

Varric Tethras, he’d been holding himself up in the bar at Haven, but this changed very little, and the fact that the dwarf has been writing letters along with receiving them has raised many brows, most of which she can't ignore. Including her own. This storyteller has one hell of a story to tell.

\---

This was the first ounce of fresh air she’d had in days, and boy did it feel good. The cold nipped at her nose and ears, the wind whipping her hair about in a flurry of snow. And by the maker it was beautiful. She sighed happily, twirling out into the snow, the clear sky making the sun shine down in golden rays that warmed her chilled skin. She felt invigorated, and the red was sleeping deep inside. Now that her guardian is around to protect her, she could enjoy things like this again, instead of loathing her inability to feel the cold like anyone else. She twirled again, then let herself collapse into the snow, breathing in deeply as the crips cool air filled her lungs.

“Oh how I wish I could share this experience with you, love..” Of course her thoughts drifted to her daughter, she cared deeply for the young redhead. She was her child, her only child.

The presence in her mind shifted restlessly, then eased once more. She frowned, worry creasing her brow. _‘Guardian?’_

It tried something along the lines of comfort, then his thick and gruff voice filled her mind once more, _“I’m alright, just thinking.”_

_‘I’m in the sun now, Guardian. It’s wonderful, and it’s cold out here too.’_

_“Is that so?”_

_‘It is.’_ she giggled aloud, rolling over and grinning. Pushing herself up onto her feet, she turned, looking down at a path that led to the distant peaks. She must be somewhere deep in the mountains, but that didn’t dishearten her, instead that made her feel a bit brave. She wanted to reach her guardian. _‘Say, Guardian, what would you do if I went looking for you?’_

_“I’d wait for you, talking and describing where I am to you. I’d help you reach me as much as I can.”_

_‘Is that a promise?’_

_“It’s a vow, Amatus.”_

Her heart lurched in her chest suddenly, causing her to gasp for breath as the flush warmed her nose and ears. His words echoed in her mind and she smiled, he saw her so wonderfully. She bit her lip, falling back into the snow with a sigh. She was love sick, and she knew it. Ah well, the joys of being free.

Freedom. Is that what this is? The ability to walk out into the daylight and play in the snow like a child? Breathe the fresh air and smile despite everything? No, the treacherous part of her mind argued, this isn’t freedom. She is still very much tied to her old master and masters. Her daughter is a slave, born into that life. Crow sighed, all the mirth leaving her for a moment before her guardian curled around her reassuringly.

_“I will help you find your freedom, and I will help you find your daughter’s freedom too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god it's been waaaay too long! I'm so sorry! Thank you so much for reading though!
> 
> Wow... Uhmmm I can't believe that I've gotten this far with this fic, but I'm almost happy I did.
> 
> Anyway, Thank you again for reading and I hope to see what you have to say down in the comments or on tumblr and Twitter(message me on either or leave something in my inbox on tumblr) and I will get back to you ASAP!
> 
> And I'll see _you_ at the next update!

**Author's Note:**

> Just gonna see where this goes... give me some feedback if you'd like to see more of this, I hope you enjoyed!


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